Chapter 3 The Sponge Bath

Tilting his chin toward Mia, he muttered, "She's just a caregiver. Isn't that a bit too luxurious for someone in her role?"

Chloe froze, caught off guard, then gently replied, "I... don't see the problem. We all eat the same meals."

"Do you honestly think she's on the same level as you?" Henry asked with a blank expression.

"She's been here for three days, claiming she's helping me, but I don't feel any improvement. Honestly, she's been doing close to nothing! Starting tomorrow, she's getting nothing more than a plain steamed bun for breakfast."

Hearing this, Mia nearly choked on the piece of egg in her mouth.

It took her a few seconds to regain composure and force it down her throat.

Chloe shot Mia a look full of sympathy.

Then, with some hesitation, she gathered her nerve and addressed Henry directly.

"Young Master, you said it yourself-she's only been here for three days. How can anyone expect real results that quickly? The doctor made it clear your recovery will take at least a month. Isn't it a little unreasonable to blame her already?

She needs nourishment in the morning just like anyone else. How else is she supposed to have the energy to take care of you?"

Henry's face clouded, and his voice dropped lower and darker.

"Chloe, if I'm so stingy, then explain how you managed to get that round? I remember you were slim when you first arrived. Now you look like you look like a big ball. One ball's enough in this house-I don't need a second one."

Chloe's smile vanished instantly, her round face falling as if struck by a dozen arrows at once.

"If she's not satisfied with the food here, she can make her own," Henry continued coldly.

"You're here to serve me, not to feed someone who hasn't worked enough for her earnings. From now on, she can have cabbage and fruits for lunch and dinner. That should be plenty."

Chloe's face pinched with displeasure, but she held her tongue.

Mia calmly set her spoon down, gave Chloe a small nod, and said, "It's alright, Chloe. Let's just follow Mr. Carter's instructions."

Cabbage and fruits are still food, after all. When she had first arrived in Melbille City, she'd survived for weeks on just buns and pickled radish.

Chloe sighed and didn't say anything more.

...

Later that morning, Steward Mason appeared, coughing softly as he entered the room. "Young Master," he said, his voice hoarse, "I'm not feeling well. I think I have fever. Would it be alright if I took the day to visit the hospital?"

Henry's brows drew together as he looked down.

Remembering Mia's words from the day before, he frowned and asked, "Fine. When do you plan to return?"

"If it's nothing serious, I'll be back as soon as I can," Mason replied respectfully.

Once the steward left, Henry shifted his eyes toward Mia, who was quietly watching him with her lips slightly upturned in what looked like the faintest hint of triumph.

The subtle smile on her face said it all-Told you. I wasn't lying. Steward Mason really is unwell.

Henry's mouth curved into a faint scowl as he muttered, "Well, congratulations. You've got the perfect opportunity now to take full advantage of me, hypocrite!"

Mia didn't respond to his harsh words. She simply stared at him, blinking slowly, as if words would be wasted on someone so determined to misunderstand her.

And once again, she was left speechless.

Let him believe whatever he wants, Mia Brock thought, unfazed. After all, Steward Mason would be back from the hospital later this afternoon anyway.

But as the evening arrived, Chloe received a call from Steward Mason.

His fever had come down, but he still felt terribly weak. Rather than risk collapsing at work, he had returned to his house, where his wife was now taking care of him.

When Chloe relayed the update to Henry Carter-who was lying on the bed and flipping aimlessly through TV channels out of sheer boredom-she added with a note of concern, "Young Master, perhaps Mia should help you with your sponge bath tonight."

Mia froze in place.

"Her?"

Henry turned slowly toward her, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"I've heard rumors. Women past thirty-especially the single ones-are said to have unrestrained appetites. Most of them are so desperate and can't be trusted. And moreso, I can't just allow anyone touch my sacred body."

Mia nearly dropped the towel she had been folding. Her jaw stiffened, stunned into silence.

"I mean," she muttered, trying to gather herself, "the weather hasn't been warm lately, and you didn't sweat much today, so... skipping the sponge bath once shouldn't be a problem. But if you really insist... maybe Chloe could do it instead?"

Chloe, who had already been rattled by Henry's earlier comments, visibly tensed and waved her hands immediately.

"Oh, no, no. I absolutely can't. I'm over forty and divorced-clearly a greater danger to your sacred body than she is!"

That was it-Mia bit down on her lip hard to stifle a laugh that threatened to bubble up. She glanced up and saw Henry's face darken instantly.

Realizing she'd just worsened the mood, Chloe fumbled for an excuse.

"Besides... I tend to be rough with my hands. I might hurt you without meaning to. It wouldn't be appropriate. I'll... I'll head downstairs."

And with flushed cheeks and hurried steps, she vanished.

Now the atmosphere in the room grew heavy and frosty, even. Henry radiated silent disdain, his annoyance hovering in the air like a storm cloud.

Mia tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, forcing herself to stay composed. "I'll... go get the basin ready."

Since he hadn't stopped her, she knew the decision was final-she'd be the one handling the sponge bath tonight.

Moments later, she returned with a bowl of warm water, her hands trembling slightly as she carried it to the bedside table.

After pausing to collect herself, she reached out and began unfastening the buttons on Henry's pajama top one by one.